Perfectly Wonderful
by saffreth
Summary: Bertie and Edith's happily ever after. Filling in the gaps between scenes in the Christmas 2015 special.
1. Chapter 1: The Ritz

**Chapter 1: The Ritz**

" _The only thing I'm not ready for is a life without you."_

After those words, uttered so earnestly by Bertie, Edith's eyes filled with tears. So did his, again, and they gazed at each other — with love, passion, heartache, hope — until the waiter interrupted them.

"Milord, milady, may I take your orders?"

Bertie collected himself and looked up. "We shall require a few more minutes, thank you."

"Certainly, milord."

As the waiter departed, Bertie took a deep, shaky breath. "There is so much I want to say, so much to explain. But shall we order? If you want to leave, I will understand."

He looked nervous — like he had when he asked her to dance at Brancaster, or when he called to her on the street in London, or when he'd kissed her in the flat. _"I thought I might be pushing my luck,"_ he'd said then. And remembering those moments made Edith's heart ache. She loved him so very much.

Oh, her feelings had never abated after he'd walked away from her at Downton. But she had been learning to set them aside, in a corner of her mind. She had convinced herself it was time to move on, to think of herself as a spinster, to accept that she'd never have love in her life again.

Yet here was Bertie, asking for another chance. Could she give it to him? Did she dare allow herself to hope? Perhaps, but only if he could answer the multitude of questions in her heart.

"I'll stay," Edith declared. "We should order. And we should talk."

At this, Bertie looked immensely relieved, and signaled the waiter. They placed their orders, then resumed silently staring at each other, unsure of how to begin.

Bertie had been playing this scenario in his head for weeks — what to say to earn Edith's forgiveness. He'd told the truth when he said he'd been doing a bad job of living without her. He hadn't been sleeping well. He could barely eat. He'd hardly said a word to his mother or to anyone else unless it was absolutely required. He no longer enjoyed long walks on the Brancaster estate. He hadn't read a word of his book on the train down.

But now, sitting here in front of the woman he so desperately loved, but had treated so badly, he was at a loss for words.

It was Edith who gathered her courage.

"Bertie, you say you can't live without me, that you want me back, but I need to understand what's happened to change your mind," she said.

He nodded, and a faraway look came to his eyes. "It started almost the instant I left you at Downton, actually. I was on the train, and then on the plane to Tangiers to settle Peter's affairs, and all I could think about was you. Even as I was walking away from you, I was berating myself for doing it."

"But you did." Edith couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice.

"Yes," he agreed, as guilt washed over him. "I must beg your forgiveness for that, and for many other things — which I'll get to in a moment. It's not much of an excuse, but I didn't cope well with all of it. Peter's death, inheriting his title, learning about Marigold. And that it came from Mary, and not from you … "

Edith interjected. "I am ever so sorry about that. I blame myself entirely for it. You were right at Downton — I should have trusted you."

"Yes, you should have, but you were afraid. You'd kept this secret for so long, and you'd been taught all your life that having a child out of wedlock was shameful. I understand why you worried it might ruin things," Bertie replied. "But what I blame myself for the most is not really listening to you. At Downton, you said you weren't sure if you would've married me in a lie. But I think you would've told me. I just never gave you the chance."

Edith shook her head, in wonder. Would she have told him the truth eventually? She would like to think so. She'd felt so close to it that last night in the hallway at Downton. But her courage had failed her then, and perhaps it would've continued to fail her.

The waiters appeared with their food, and for some minutes, their conversation had to cease. As soon as they left, though, Edith could not contain her curiosity any longer. "But how can you be so sure that I would've spoken up?"

Bertie gave her a half-smile. He could never understand how beautiful, clever, independent Edith could think so ill of herself. To him, she was so fiercely strong. Much stronger than him.

"Because I believe in your character. I think you were struggling with it, but that you would've told me before accepting me, truly," he said. "That's also what I blame myself for — I pushed you. You never said yes, not truly. I told Mary I mustn't jump the gun, yet that is exactly what I did. It was quite selfish of me."

"Bertie, you haven't a selfish bone in your body," Edith responded, smiling at him. He had broken her heart, but she still believed him to be the best man she'd ever known. That he thought so well of her, warmed her heart.

"I acted very selfishly. I wanted you as my wife, and I rushed you into it," he said, shaking his head. "I think you were on the precipice of telling me, but you just wanted time. The change in my circumstance did not help, I'm sure."

The moment Bertie had opened the telegram, he'd felt the earth slide away from under his feet. He'd wanted to grab hold of her — she who was so strong and confident — to keep from falling into the abyss.

Edith had to agree. "Yes, it's true. As the wife of an agent, the potential gossip would not have been so bad," she said. "But as the wife of a marquess … "

"My situation has changed, but I am still who I've always been. I'm still the man who fell in love with you. I realized something in Tangiers, as I was settling Peter's affairs," Bertie said. "Not everyone understood his … way of life, but he enjoyed it. He was very content, I think. He had no regrets. And I realized, if I didn't win you back, it would be the biggest regret of my life."

Again, tears pooled in Edith's eyes, and this time, they began to spill over her cheeks. Bertie looked alarmed and started to rise out of his chair.

"No, no, I'm fine," she gasped, waving him to sit. She wiped her tears discreetly with the napkin.

Bertie opened his mouth, then closed it again. Once again, he could not find the words. But he must — he had to find the courage, as Edith had. Finally, he did get up, and went to one knee beside her chair. The diners at nearby tables gawked at them. And for once, Bertie didn't care if he was the center of unwanted attention. The world faded away, and only Edith remained.

"My dearest, darling Edith. I'll answer a thousand more questions if you have them. And I want to answer thousands more for the rest of our lives, together. Please, please, I beg you — forgive me. Marry me."

At that, the tears overflowed again, but Edith had no more questions, at least for now. "Oh, Bertie, I love you," she whispered, taking his hand. "Yes, I will marry you."


	2. Chapter 2: Reunited

**Chapter 2: Reunited**

Later, at Edith's flat, they telephoned Downton with the good news. Bertie invited her and her parents to meet his mother, and the couple toasted their reunion with nightcaps.

"No doubt the gossip columns will be filled with talk of the new Marquess of Hexham down on one knee at the Ritz," Edith teased. They sat close together on the sofa, in a similar pose to when he'd first asked her to marry him.

Remembering that evening, after that dreadful crash, Bertie marveled at how much better they understood each other now. Then, she'd been so hesitant, so worried, so unsure of herself. He saw now that asking him to take on Marigold had been an important step in telling him the whole truth of the matter.

"I hope so," Bertie drawled. "Then you will be trapped, and there'd be no getting out."

They chuckled, and Edith could hardly believe how her fortunes had changed in just a few hours. She'd gone from being a spinster moving to London to the next Marchioness of Hexham, presiding over the Brancaster Castle.

The thought sobered her in an instant. "Bertie," she said, trying to ignore the swirls his fingertips were drawing on her shoulder. How delightful that felt! "What shall we tell you mother, then, about Marigold?"

Bertie knit his eyebrows together, in that adorable fashion she so loved. "I think we should stick with the story your family already has put about," he said. "She is a ward, come to you from a former tenant. You are very fond of her and wish to bring her with you. And I shall adopt her after we are wed."

Edith's face lit up, as she turned in his arms. "Oh, will you, darling?"

Bertie could see how happy this made her, and vowed to do whatever it took to keep her that way every day of her life. Lady Edith Crawley deserved the best of men, and Bertie would strive to become that.

"Of course. I'm quite fond of her myself, already. And it should not raise too many eyebrows, as she is a girl, and cannot be my heir."

"True enough," Edith conceded. Marigold might not have a title, like her future siblings, but she'd inherit the magazine and flat. "But your mother — she must be a clever lady. She might figure it out eventually."

"Perhaps. We'll deal with that if it comes." The clock struck two, and Bertie reluctantly sat up. "I should get back to my rooms."

"Are you still staying at a hotel then?" Edith wondered. "Is there no Hexham House in London?"

Bertie grimaced. "Yes, there is. It's let at the moment. And to be honest, I have no wish to ever stay there. It is far too grand for me."

"Darling, you are a marquess now. Hardly anything can be too grand for you."

He sighed. "Marquess might be my title, but I don't know that I shall ever feel it in my bones. In any case, it's 1925 — that way of life is fast disappearing."

"To my grandmother's great consternation," Edith laughed. "Do not forget, we are having dinner with my Aunt Rosamund tomorrow."

"I have not forgotten. I look forward to it. And then we are off to Brancaster. Is everything settled at the magazine?"

"Just about," Edith replied. "I want to look in again tomorrow, but Miss Edmunds has pretty much everything in hand."

Edith smiled, then told him about "Miss Cassandra Jones" and how "she" was really Spratt, her grandmother's butler. His eyes danced with laughter as she regaled him with the tale.

Then, he drew her close. "I love hearing you talk about running your empire," he said, then leaned in for a long, lingering kiss.

It was their most passionate yet, and Edith drew her arms around his neck and pressed close. She felt Bertie's hand slide up to her neck and into the curls of her hair. Their mouths opened, their tongues met. She felt his other hand sliding down her side, to her hip, and then Bertie abruptly pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he said, rather breathlessly. Inwardly, he cursed himself. He was a gentleman, and he'd better act like it.

Edith smiled, and cupped his cheek with her hand. "Oh, don't be. We are to be married after all."

Bertie took her hand and kissed the palm. "My beautiful, clever empress. I cannot wait."


	3. Chapter 3: Felicitations

**Chapter 3: Felicitations**

"My dear, how happy I am for you." A smiling Rosamund embraced Edith and they sat together on the sofa.

"Nobody could be happier than I am at this moment," Edith replied. She fairly glowed with an expression of complete contentment.

After Bertie had left her flat last night, Edith could hardly sleep, thinking of the extraordinary turn of events of the previous day. It was almost a dream, a fairy tale. And she was the princess! Nobody in her life, herself included, had painted her as the princess.

"I will be honest, I was not sure if Mary's plan would work," Rosamund said.

Yes, it had been Mary's plan. Had she felt sorry for Edith, now that she was married and happy with Henry? It was too much to think Mary was changing her spots now. Perhaps Henry or Tom had persuaded her to do it.

Edith shook her head. "I still hardly believe she telephoned Bertie. It is very hard to credit."

Rosamund had opened her mouth to answer when the door opened.

"The Marquess of Hexham," the butler intoned.

Bertie slipped in, slightly awkward as ever, and bowed. "Lady Rosamund, how lovely to see you again."

"Lord Hexham, the honor is mine. And my sincerest felicitations on your engagement," Rosamund answered.

Edith came forward to claim Bertie's hand. "We are soon to be family. Let us not stand on formalities."

He grinned. "Thank goodness. I still forget to turn when someone says 'Lord Hexham.'"

They went into dinner, and talk naturally turned to their wedding. 

"It's up to Edith, really. I suppose the proper thing is to have it at Brancaster, but I think you'd like to have it at Downton, wouldn't you?" Bertie asked her.

Edith considered. Marrying at Downton would banish the painful memory of being jilted at the altar by Sir Anthony. And she'd always pictured herself floating down the grand staircase to meet her father, and driving through the village and waving at all the well-wishers. And this way, all the people who had been part of her life — Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, and the rest of the servants — would be able to attend. "Yes, I would, rather. Do you mind terribly?"

"Not at all," Bertie smiled, the dimples showing in his cheeks. Edith repressed the desire to kiss them.

Here, Rosamund had to interject. "You might be able to get away with that, but with your ranks, you will have to have a big society affair. It'll be in all the papers."

Bertie sighed, Edith shrugged. Rosamund pressed on. "I'm sorry, but it is so. Bertie is a marquess, Edith is an earl's daughter. Chin up, there are worse problems in life."

The three laughed. "When shall we have it?" Edith pondered.

"I don't want to wait too long," Bertie replied, then turned beet red. The two ladies stifled another chuckle.

"How about Christmas, or around then?" Rosamund suggested.

Edith brightened. "Oh yes, that's only a few months away. That should give us plenty of time to plan this 'big society affair' we must have. And Downton should look splendid with all the decorations. Perhaps on New Year's Eve?"

Bertie's color had gone back to normal, and he looked at Edith with shining eyes. "What a way to start 1926 and the rest of our lives."


	4. Chapter 4: To Brancaster

**Chapter 4: To Brancaster**

The happy talk of their wedding did not do much to soothe Edith's nerves the next morning, as she and Bertie boarded the train for Brancaster.

"What if your mother doesn't like me?" she fretted, watching the rolling green hills outside the window. She knew what an important figure Mrs. Pelham was to Bertie. And would be to her, really. She thought of her mother's relationship with Granny — prickly, at times, but quite civil.

Bertie closed his book, and took her hand. "Impossible. No one could dislike you."

She rolled her eyes. "You've met my sister Mary, haven't you?"

He gently tipped her chin toward him and gazed lovingly into her eyes. "I think she will like you very much. You have rank, fortune, brains, beauty, and everything she could want for a daughter-in-law. Not only that, you were willing to accept me when I was a mere land agent. And loyalty counts for a lot in her books."

Edith nodded reluctantly and turned back to watch the scenery. Bertie took up his book again, but could only think about how it came to be that Edith valued herself so little. He did not think it was Lord and Lady Grantham's doing — it was her relationship with Mary, which Bertie had trouble understanding, as an only child himself. He resolved to puzzle it out, to support Edith better.

They arrived at Brancaster and were greeted by Mrs. Pelham. Edith steadied her nerves enough to say hello and talk a little about the journey, but it was late enough that it was time to change for dinner.

At dinner, Edith let Bertie do most of the talking, until the subject of the wedding came up and she explained their plans.

"At Downton? That would be quite irregular," Mrs. Pelham frowned. "Bertie, now that you are the Marquess of Hexham, this should be… "

Bertie had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "Mother, Edith would like to be married from her childhood home. And as I am so new to the role, I don't think it would be seen as quite so odd," he said. For good measure, though not unkindly, he added, "And Lady Grantham launched three daughters to great success, and has planned several weddings. I have every faith in her abilities."

Mrs. Pelham harrumphed softly.

"She and my father should arrive tomorrow in time for dinner," Edith said after throwing a grateful glance at Bertie.

"Your sister will not join them?"

Edith and Bertie exchanged another look. "I'm afraid not. She's rather busy with the estate. She and my brother-in-law, Tom, are the co-agents."

At this, Mrs. Pelham raised an eyebrow. "How … unusual."

Bertie jumped in. He would not allow his mother to bully Edith in any way. "And they do a very fine job of it. Now, Mother, did you hear from our cousins, the Wards?"

 _After the engagement dinner_

It was just the two of them again, with Mrs. Pelham and Edith's parents gone to bed.

"I felt very daring kissing you in front of your father," Bertie laughed.

"And your mother!" she added, nestling deeper into his arms. The fire was roaring, but the warmth she felt came from the man whose arms were around her.

They sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating the grand evening they'd been part of. It would be just one of many to come. It was a daunting idea to Bertie, who'd worn white tie just a handful of times in the past few years. Running the estate was second nature now, but the social expectations were something he had not quite grappled with yet. As if she read his mind, Edith brought up the very subject.

"Now that we are to be a king and queen of the county, what shall we do?" Edith wondered. "Shall I arrange many dinner parties and sit in charity meetings and the like? What about the magazine?"

Bertie turned to her, startled. "I should never want you to give up the magazine!"

"I know, and I wouldn't give it up," Edith said. "But I am glad I found Laura, because I don't think I will be able to get down to London as often once we are married."

Her fiance grimaced. "I'm sorry for that. I know how much you enjoy the work."

"Oh, I do. But I am excited for my life here, too. With you. And our family." They smiled at each other.

"I don't know what causes you will be called upon to take up. There hasn't been a Lady Hexham in quite some time. Peter was not married, as you know. His mother died, oh, nearly 20 years ago. The county is quite used to not having a great lady at Brancaster. You could do whatever you wanted."

Edith sat up a little. "Oh, I am sure there will be a thousand local matters to get involved with. I dare say there is a hospital to fight over." They shared a smirk.

"You know, my aunt is a trustee at a school for young women in Yorkshire. I think it a fantastic idea, to train young women to strive, to better themselves, to have careers. Perhaps something similar could be formed here in Northumberland."

"That _is_ a fantastic idea. I quite approve," Bertie said, looking impressed. He didn't think Mother would like it, but he would champion anything Edith did.

Edith picked at his lapel, a pensive mood coming over her. "You know, it'd be an opportunity for girls like Marigold, but who are unluckier."

Bertie sighed, and drew her close. "You are right, children born out of wedlock should have chances, too. I think, and I hope, attitudes are changing on that score. Look at my mother, of all people."

Edith nestled into his arms again. Yes, this could be a cause she could take up as Marchioness of Hexham. Perhaps she might make a difference.


	5. Chapter 5: With This Ring

**Chapter 5: With This Ring**

"Rosamund can make the trip?" Bertie asked on the telephone. Edith smiled, though he couldn't see it. It had been a week since they'd seen each other, and she missed him terribly.

"Yes, she's quite interested in seeing Brancaster," Edith replied. She had asked her aunt to come up to Downton for a small engagement dinner, then to chaperone her and Marigold for a few weeks stay at Brancaster.

Bertie also missed her and thought of her near constantly as he went about his duties, old and new. He was looking forward to spending time with little Marigold, too — she was to become his daughter, after all, to raise and protect until she grew up and got married. He thought, he hoped he'd make a good father.

"Excellent. I shall see you all on Friday. I should be in time for luncheon."

They hung up the telephone, and Edith reported the news to her parents. "Who's coming to this dinner?" she asked. "I hope you've kept it to a small party. We had enough of a to-do at Brancaster."

Cora smiled and shook her head. "You'll have to get used to it soon enough. Your grandmother and Lord and Lady Merton are coming. I've also asked Bertie's friend, Mr. Allen, and his wife. Is there anyone else you'd like to invite?"

Perhaps this was a little daring, but … "Can we invite my editor, Laura Edmunds?"

At this, her father turned around in his chair at the desk, but her mother didn't bat an eyelash. "Of course. It's your engagement, and I liked her very much."

Friday came and brought with it both Bertie and Laura, who had fresh issues of The Sketch to distribute. She chatted with Edith and her parents as Bertie and Henry played games with the children at tea.

"I quite like your agony aunt, Cassandra Jones," Cora told Laura. "Have you met her? She must be very interesting in person."

Laura and Edith shared an amused expression, and Bertie looked up with a smirk, while Henry turned a laugh into a cough. Mary turned a quizzical eye on him.

"I usually find that kind of thing a terrible bore, but even I must admit she's amusing," Mary drawled. "She almost sounds like Granny sometimes."

Again, Henry half-laughed, half-coughed, and Mary frowned at him.

He was saved by the gong, however. "Time to go up," Henry declared, mirth dancing in his eyes.

As they ascended the stairs, Bertie drew Edith aside. "I have something for you," he said. "Can I come to your room when you're done dressing?"

She agreed, and later, he entered as Baxter was leaving. He held a box in his hand and looked rather nervous.

"Is that what I think it is?" Edith asked, face lighting up. After the Brancaster dinner, Bertie had apologized for not presenting her with a ring — the Hexham jewels were kept in London and needed to be cleaned and repaired after many years of disuse.

"I would not say I have an eye for fashion, but some of the Hexham jewels were … rather fussy," he said, coming forward to sit on the sofa with her. "Rather ugly, I'd say. I think you ought to take a look to have them reset."

"Me?" Edith looked skeptical. Who was she to reset valuable antiques over a hundred years old?

"You've always seemed so fashionable and modern, to me," Bertie replied.

Edith was touched by his belief in her. "Thank you."

"In any case, there was nothing I thought suitable for an engagement ring for you, so I purchased a new one. I hope I chose well." Bertie opened the box, and inside gleamed a stunning diamond and sapphire ring, in a very modern style. Edith gasped.

"How beautiful, Bertie! Oh, darling! It's magnificent!"

He slipped it on her finger. "You like it then? I've always liked you in blue," Bertie explained. "It reminds me of that day when I saw you in London. The luckiest day of my life."

As an answer, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly.

Dinner was a lively, happy affair. Edith's ring was admired by all. Bertie's friend, Mr. Allen, was a gregarious man, and his wife equally amiable. Lord Grantham made a toast to the engaged couple, and Bertie made one to his beautiful and intelligent — "much more than myself" — fiancee. Laura fit in quite well, and impressed Granny with her wit and good manners. Even Mary seemed to enjoy herself.

Afterward, in the drawing room, Bertie and Edith were once again alone, intertwined on the sofa, the fire crackling before them.

"I liked Mr. Allen very much. We should invite them to Brancaster when we are settled," Edith said.

"Yes, he's a good chap. We came up together in the army, you know. He's frightfully clever, actually. I shouldn't be surprised if he made Prime Minister."

"Is the army where you got your love of organizing everything?" Edith teased. "I think Tom's still jealous that you can out-agent him."

He laughed and unconsciously smoothed his jacket. Bertie had often been teased in his younger years for his adherence to rules and regulations. "I was quite organized as a child, even. When Peter and I played with toy soldiers, I always formed them in ranks, while he scattered them about."

Edith smiled at that. "What wonderful memories you have of your youth with Peter. I sometimes worry about taking Marigold from Downton. She's made such good friends with Sybbie and George."

"There are children on the estate - all the nearby tenants have small children. And we shall have our own soon, I hope." Bertie pressed his lips to her temple. He dared not do more, for thinking of having children with Edith tempted his thoughts into dangerous territory.

Edith smiled, picturing their future children. A boy, for they needed an heir. And another girl, to be a sister to Marigold, though she'd make sure they got along far better than she and Mary did. "Yes, of course. And perhaps we might hire servants with children. I think Mary plans to let Anna keep her baby in the nursery here."

"I think we shall need to hire some new servants actually. The butler is leaving. I had no valet before and I haven't hired one yet. Shall you get a ladies maid?"

She crinkled her nose. "I don't know. I hadn't thought of it. I've made do on my own, or with Baxter's help for big occasions."

"Yes, just like me. I feel like the Marquess of Hexham should have a valet, but Bertie Pelham doesn't need or want one," he sighed.

Edith rubbed his arm. "It's a new world, as we've so often said. And the Marquess of Hexham and Bertie Pelham are the same man, now. He can do whatever he likes."

"And what he would like, is to kiss his future wife." And he did just that.


	6. Chapter 6: Anticipation

**Chapter 6: Anticipation**

Edith and Marigold spent two blissful weeks at Brancaster. They took long walks on the estate, and Bertie introduced his fiancee to notable tenants and villagers. Edith was delighted once again by the bracing beauty of the moors. And Bertie made one or two, or really five or six, jokes about whisking Edith off to Gretna Green and never allowing her to leave Brancaster again.

But soon enough, they returned to Downton, and the wedding planning began in earnest. Bertie came down as often as he could, though he had many claims on his attention.

He decided to let Brancaster for another shooting party in November. "The money is too good, and the death duty bill is frightfully large," he explained to Edith one weekend at Downton. "As it is, I'm considering selling Hexham House. It's not quite what Devonshire House was, but the upkeep is enormous. There is an industrialist who has offered a sum that would be hard to turn down."

"Perhaps you should sell. For now, if we need to go down to London, we can stay at the flat. And then we can think about buying a smaller house in future, if we need to," Edith replied.

Bertie smiled, relieved that they were of the same mind about this, as they were on so many other matters. Despite his mother's urgings, he did not want to adopt a grand lifestyle, and that Edith agreed was just another reason he loved her.

He came another weekend to shoot at Downton, and brought his mother this time. Edith put on a show of her trousseau, or what she had of it, for the women of the family.

"I rather thought you might want to go to Italy," Mrs. Pelham mused.

"We did consider it, it would be warmer this time of year, but Bertie wants to take me dancing at the jazz clubs, and that's not possible on the Amalfi Coast," Edith replied. "Also, we will be gone for less than two weeks. We want to be back to see Rose and Atticus again before they return to New York. And I shall miss Marigold too much to be away so long."

Edith twirled around in her going-away suit, which the ladies oohed and ahhed over appropriately.

The Dowager Countess nodded her approval, but tut-tutted her. "My dear, take it from me — when you have three or four children underfoot, you will rue the day you did not luxuriate in splendor on the Amalfi Coast."

Edith laughed. "Granny, when have you ever had children underfoot? I'm sure you didn't set eyes on Papa or Aunt Rosamund until they were at least 10 years old!"

Violet harrumphed at this.

Downstairs, Bertie got a tremendous surprise from his brothers-to-be: a car! It would be waiting at Brancaster after the honeymoon. "I couldn't possibly," he protested.

"Oh, you can," Henry said, as Tom grinned from the side. "We promise you'll be helping us out tremendously. We would be able to say that the Marquess of Hexham drove one of Talbot and Branson's cars."

Bertie was still shaking his head, but Henry, as usual, would not take no for an answer. "But not a word to Mary — the whole enterprise is to be a surprise."

With so much to busy themselves with, the weeks flew by. Bertie and his mother joined them for Christmas, then took themselves off to Castle Howard for the intervening week before the wedding.

Before Edith knew it, it was the night before her wedding. She went to bed early, to try to get her beauty's rest — though she did not think she would sleep a wink — but a soft knock came at the door. To her great surprise, it was Mary. And she was bearing a glass of whiskey.

"I thought it might help you to go to sleep," Mary explained, placing it on her bedside table. Then, she sat down on the bed, as Edith continued to brush her hair. What on Earth was Mary doing there?

They looked at each other silently in the mirror for a few moments, before Mary broke. "I'm glad that it all turned out for the good," she finally said. "I think you and Bertie will be very happy together."

Edith put down her brush and swiveled to face her sister. "I think we shall," she replied, then stopped. She would let Mary guide this conversation, whatever it was intended to be.

Mary, seeing that Edith wasn't going to speak, sighed. "What you said on the morning of my wedding to Henry stuck with me. We share a history, just the two of us. And there are many more years to come. We'll lose Granny, and Mama and Papa. We'll both have more children, I'm sure, and I hope they can grow up knowing each other. What I mean to say is, we don't only share a history — we'll share a future, too. And I mean to do better with it."

This speech stunned Edith, and she did not know what to say. She could only gaze wide-eyed at Mary, who might've quipped about her dumbfoundedness before.

But this was a new Mary, it seemed, for all she said was, "That's it. I'll say good night. Get your rest. You'll need it."


	7. Chapter 7: Perfectly Wonderful

**Chapter 7: Perfectly Wonderful**

It wasn't until they were in the car, alone — well, alone with the chauffeur at the front — that Bertie and Edith realized that they were truly, completely married. He still couldn't believe his great good luck. That Edith had given him the time of day during the Sinderby shooting party. Running into her on the street in London. Gaining her affection and love over the ensuing weeks. Winning her forgiveness that night at the Ritz.

"My dear wife. Happy new year," Bertie murmured before reaching for her hand. He took off his hat and kissed her soundly.

"My dear husband," Edith replied in a whisper against his lips. "Happy new year."

They were to stay the night in London before embarking on their honeymoon in Paris. Edith was unaccountably nervous about the evening. She'd been with a man before, although it had been just that one night with Michael.

Glancing at Bertie, he only seemed incandescently happy. That she could make him feel that way nearly made her heart burst.

"I was glad to see Laura catch the bouquet," Edith said. "I don't want to play matchmaker, but I thought she and Tom were getting along quite well."

Bertie tilted his head, as he often did when thinking. He liked Tom very well, and they'd had several very interesting discussions about farming and land development. "Hmm, yes, I saw them speaking. I don't know either well enough to say it'd be a good match."

"Oh, it's just ruminations. Now that I'm happily married, I want to marry off everyone I know," she laughed.

They arrived at their hotel, where they got the very best suite — they were, after all, a marquess and marchioness — and asked to have supper sent up to their rooms.

Bertie ate heartily; he'd hardly touched a thing at the wedding breakfast. Edith picked at her food, still feeling butterflies. She wondered if Bertie would look at her differently, knowing she'd been with someone else. She wondered if he thought she'd … well, know what she was about. Even though she didn't.

After eating (or in her case, not), they sat by the fire with a cocktail, snuggled together in the same way they'd always done. And to Edith's surprise, Bertie spoke up.

"Darling, whatever is the matter?"

Edith froze. "Nothing. Nothing at all. This is the happiest day of my life."

"Something is the matter." Bertie turned to look her in the eye. He was a little disappointed at the thought that Edith still felt she had to hide things from him. "I hope you can trust me to say what it is."

Edith let out a deep sigh. "I do trust you, of course. You know that I do. I just feel so very silly." At his encouraging nod, she continued, "I'm just worried about … tonight. Our wedding night."

Comprehension dawned on him. "Ah," he said, breathing in. "Are you afraid, is that it? I assume you … you know what happens."

She let out a short bark. "Yes, of course. I didn't find Marigold in a manger." Edith was reassured somewhat when Bertie took her hands and squeezed them. "We've never talked about … the details, I suppose. I worried you might think I was more … experienced than I am. And I worry that maybe … deep down, part of you thinks I am damaged goods."

Edith's stomach was in knots and she could hardly breathe. But Bertie squeezed her hands again, then caressed her cheek.

"My dearest, darling Edith. Put your fears to rest, all of them. I love you. I adore you. I cherish you. I respect you. I want to make you as happy as any woman could be. We shall find our way through anything and everything, together. Tonight, tomorrow, and in 50 years. I'm ready for whatever comes."

Tears came to Edith's eyes. Bertie was looking at her so earnestly, so lovingly — it reminded her of that dinner at the Ritz. _"The only thing I'm not ready for is a life without you,"_ he had said.

She had trusted him then, and she trusted him now — with her heart, her body, and her soul.

Their life together was just beginning. And it was going to be perfectly wonderful.


End file.
